


Flex Healer

by NiteWrighter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A seagull gets laser-beamed, F/M, Hana "D.Va" Song Is a Little Shit, Meet-Cute, i love arm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiteWrighter/pseuds/NiteWrighter
Summary: Dae-hyun comes to the Watchpoint to assist with repairs on D.Va's mech, only to find another mechanic already working on it!Written for a request on Tumblr.
Relationships: Dae-hyun/Brigitte Lindholm
Comments: 15
Kudos: 22





	Flex Healer

Dae-hyun ran a hand through his hair and huffed at how greasy it felt with his jet-lag, readjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder.

 _At least Hana paid your air fare,_ he thought to himself as he glanced back to the monitor at the side of the chain link fence. He squinted through the wiring, trying to get a gauge for just how big the Watchpoint was before giving a nervous glance over his shoulder. Overwatch was still illegal, wasn’t it? This wouldn’t be the first time sticking his neck out for Hana had gotten him in trouble, and yet, one call, and he would come running, or in this case, flying, then busing, then walking. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. The scent of the sea was a comfort at least, like Busan, but different here. Just as much of that faint scent of rocket exhaust as he would smell back at the Meka base, but there seemed to be more warmth on the air, here, more dust, more salt. He looked at the monitor again, studied it for a few seconds, then noticed a button below the monitor.

 _Hana always talked about these guys like they’re doing all sorts of dangerous missions…_ he thought, _It can’t be as simple as… buzzing a door, can it?_

He hit the button below the monitor and a loud buzz sounded. His shoulders tensed slightly at its shrillness and the way it made the chain link fence vibrate, but he didn’t flinch until multiple miniature spherical shapes suddenly materialized at the top of the fence and all fixed glowing blue sights on him as the monitor flickered to life, revealing an empty chair.

“Hello?” he spoke to the monitor, but the screen remained the same.

He squinted at the spheres, trying to figure out how they came to be for a few seconds. He heard a call and watched as a seagull swooped low near a sphere. The sphere swiveled and shot out a laser, rendering the gull nothing but red mist, smoke, and a few half-burning feathers fluttering to the ground.

Dae-hyun squawked and staggered back from the gate as the spheres once again fixed their sights on him.

“Uh–Hana?!” his voice cracked as he backed up, but he heard a voice coming from the monitor.

“Always _right_ when I’m fixing my tea–the very audacity—if it’s another solicitor so help me I’m—” an Indian woman with sleek center-parted hair took her seat in the chair and adjusted herself with a mug in hand before looking at Dae-hyun through the monitor. He probably would have regarded her as beautiful if he wasn’t pant-shittingly terrified at watching a seagull be vaporized. “Do you have business here?” Her gold eyes flicked up and down his figure through the pale blue of a holographic visor.

“Uh… D-Dae-hyun Park?” he stammered, “I’m here about Tokki–D.Va’s mech? She called me in for a diagnostic?”

The woman regarded him for a few seconds before saying, “Well, I will need proof of identification.”

Dae-hyun couldn’t recall a time when he had whipped out his ID card faster. A small light shot out of a scanner at the lower-right of the monitor and passed a blue line over his ID, before beeping affirmatively.

“Welcome to the Watchpoint, Mr. Park,” she said before calmly sipping from her mug, “Stand by for clearance.”

“Th-that’s it?” said Dae-hyun, crinkling his brow and looking closer at the screen confusedly. The screen suddenly flashed and he winced back, blinking as the monitor whirred and a small pass card with his photo printed out of the bottom of the monitor, “Oh–that’s…” he looked at his own photo, one eye squinted, his lips drawn back off his teeth with his own flinching at the flash, hair messy and greasy from the long flight and his shoulders sank a little, “…okay.”

“You have been granted Clearance Level 2D,” said the woman warmly, “Guest of Agent Song and Unvetted Consultant–”

“Unvetted? What does–”

“You are to proceed directly to the west sector engineering workshop. Agent Song will be with you shortly. Athena will guide you. Deviance from the path will alert Watchpoint security.”

“The…the little ball things?” Dae-hyun’s voice squeaked more than he would like.

“The sentry turrets?” she sipped from her mug, “Well hopefully it won’t come to that. You’ll look after him, won’t you, Athena?”

Another voice, metallic yet pleasant, sounded over the speakers, “Of course, Agent Vaswani. Mr. Park, please proceed forward 40 meters.”

There was another buzz and the chain-link gate rolled aside. Dae-hyun gave a nervous glance up to the spherical turrets on the gate, all slowly following him as he walked through. He walked very fast, keeping his eyes straight forward. He walked up a short road toward a complex cluster of various buildings, the tallest structure being a shuttle launch tower.

“Turn left here. Did you have a pleasant flight, Mr. Park?” Athena sounded over another speaker as he apparently reached the first point.

“Y-yeah,” said Dae-hyun quickly turning.

“I apologize for any inconvenience. We are still attempting to establish what level of security best suits both watchpoint safety and efficiency,” said Athena.

“You don’t say…” said Dae-hyun, walking past a large red turret slowly panning left and right on the roof of one of the watchpoint buildings.

“As a member of the Meka program, and given the heavy amount of recommendation from Agent Song, I can say, based on your record, that we are very happy to have you here,” Athena went on.

“Uh… thanks,” said Dae-hyun, glancing down. He suddenly stopped walking, “Can I use the restroom?”

“Of course. You’ve had a long journey. I will readjust our current course to pass by the lavatory,” said Athena over the next speaker, “Continue forward 80 feet.”

Athena guided him to a restroom with multiple stalls and he quickly locked himself inside one of the stalls and yanked out his phone.

 _Are they going to kill me?_ he texted Hana.

 _What?_ Hana texted back.

 _The lady at the front laser-beamed a seagull! A seagull!_ Dae-hyun’s thumbs desperately pounded against his phone’s screen.

_Ah jeez we gotta recalibrate the turrets again. Look, they’re not going to kill you. Just get to the workshop. Tokki will be waiting for you there. I’ll meet with you in a little bit. I’m still working out some post-mission stuff with Winston._

_Okay,_ he texted, sent, and then texted again, _Okay_.

 _And breathe,_ Hana texted.

Dae-hyun sucked in a breath, not really knowing the last time he did that.

 _Look, it’s weird here, but they’re good people. Trust me,_ Hana texted.

Dae-hyun exhaled. “It’s okay,” he said to himself, “It’s okay. You’re okay. I mean–it’s basically the same level of security back at the Meka base so–”

“Is there sufficient toilet paper, Mr. Park?” Athena sounded over a speaker in the bathroom and a surprised yelp escaped him.

—-

A short Athena-guided walk later, Dae-hyun came to a large building that seemed to be a wing of an even larger hangar. He scanned his passcard with the world’s most unflattering photo on it next to a door and it slid open. He walked through to find himself in an almost stuffily warm workshop. It reminded him of a more-stripped down version of the garages back at the Meka base and that was a comfort in itself, but then the most comforting site of all lay before him.

Tokki was actually designed to be reassuring and friendly-looking in its design–it wasn’t just about launching mini missiles against the Gwishin, but, like the other mechs of the Meka program, it was about presenting a familiar and appealing face for the program to the public. The sporty bubble-gum pink of the Meka’s frame, its round, yet streamlined shape, and its rabbit-like legs and ears made it the cutest and most popular of the Mekas, but Dae-hyun’s own friendship with Hana gave him a fondness for it that went deeper than the average meka fan’s.

Tokki didn’t look as rough as Dae-hyun had previously seen on D.Va’s vid-chat, but it did have to be propped up by some steel lifts on the floor.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Tokki,” said Dae-hyun, slinging his duffel from his shoulder to the floor and bending to get his tablet and tools out of it, “And don’t worry,” he said turning on his tablet, “I’ll have you flying again in just a little–” He cut himself off as another figure, wearing bulky coveralls and a thick apron, their head wrapped in a bandana and face covered by a welding mask, made their way across the floor, “Uh–”

The figure was humming, the tune reverberating against the metal of their welding helmet, and carrying a cutting torch. The oxyacetylene flared to bright life in their thickly gloved hand as they pivoted on their heel and casually approached Tokki, and a flare of alarm made Dae-hyun’s chest tighten.

“Don’t–don’t–don’t–!” He was already running forward, gripping his tablet as the figure ducked to one knee beneath Tokki’s undercarriage. The figure didn’t seem to hear him before he flailed out one hand to grab their arm.

“Woah!” the figure flinched away from him and clicked the torch off, “You don’t just _run up_ to someone with an oxy-torch!”

“And _you_ don’t just _slice into_ Tokki!” said Dae-hyun.

The figure huffed a chuckle. “I know what I’m doing, I’ll be gentle.”

“ _Gentle?!_ ” Dae-hyun repeated incredulously, “With an oxy-torch? Look, I’m an official Meka engineer, and Tokki is a one-of-a-kind mech with an extremely specific and delicate equilibrium that has evolved and only gotten more complex over years of–”

The figure lifted the mask of their welding helmet, apparently to hear him better, and he lost his train of thought for a moment. Beneath the steel and opaque plexiglass of the welding helmet he found himself staring into two bright, almost amber brown eyes, framed by furrowed eyebrows and punctuated by a button nose dappled with freckles. A stray strand of warm chestnut hair had fallen across her forehead. She squinted slightly, studying his face, apparently realizing she had never seen him on the Watchpoint before. “Of…” his voice was trailing off as he looked at her, “Trial…and… error against…uh…”

“…the Gwishin?” the woman attempted to finish his sentence, and the motion of her jaw drew his eyes to her mouth. A strong jaw, round, but squarish at the chin and corners. Cupid’s bow lips, full and pink, but clearly more from sun and wind than any makeup, which seemed to add to their dimension and charm. Dae-hyun became suddenly acutely aware of how unflattering the photo of himself on the passcard poking out of his pocket was.

“Yeah,” said Dae-hyun, blankly, “The gwishin.”

“Well–look–I’ve been helping repair Tokki for a while, now. I’ve seen the schematics.” Her voice was feminine, slightly husky, a little sing-songy on the vowels and hitting the consonants hard enough to suggest a northern European accent. “I know I’m dealing with an additional 412 micrometers of hybrid polymer anti-corrosive coating to offset the higher embrittlement of your 7000-Lambda alloy framing, which is, honestly, a _bizarrely_ outdated metal choice for a mech this sophisticated and can make systemic diagnostics that much more slow and dumb, but I can understand why you would go for it for the–”

“—higher maneuverability and ease of handling in overall wing design,” Dae-hyun’s voice overlapped with hers.

The words caught her off-guard slightly, as if she was used to being constantly questioned and debated, and she seemed to warm up a bit more. “Yes, exactly!” she said with a slight surprised laugh.

His eyes were wide and his head was tilted in awe as she kept talking about alternative alloys for the skin and possible side-effects of different anti-corrosives in combination with those alloys, finishing off with a hand-waving (or in this case unlit cutting torch-waving), “But then again I’m not _exactly_ an avionics expert, but I have had to learn a lot since coming here with Reinhardt.”

Dae-hyun seemed to catch himself and clear his throat, reminded of the strangeness of his own surroundings by the mention of an unfamiliar name. He blinked a few times before saying“I–I’ve been saying the same thing for months–I mean about the alloy, not about, er… Reinarth.”

“Reinhardt,” she corrected.

“Reinhardt,” said Dae-hyun, nodding with a burning face before quickly pivoting, “But. Yes, the frame. Hana–er, D.Va customizes it all she can to optimize–”

“But some optimizations may lie in the frame itself,” Brigitte’s voice overlapped with his and she arched an eyebrow, “You’ve been reading the literature, too?” she said with a lopsided smile.

Dae-hyun snorted, “When I need to sleep, honestly.”

Brigitte snorted. “And then you dream about it, and for some reason dream logic says something crazy like, ‘Oh you should shove Surströmming into it, that’ll fix it’ and you’re like ‘Yes, of course, it’s so obvious,’ and then you’re so pleased with yourself for figuring it out until you wake up and realize that’s stupid and makes no sense,” she went on and seemed to catch herself, looking at him for a few seconds before glancing off as if that was likely something that was just her problem and she now sounded insane.

But Dae-hyun’s eyes brightened up and he said, “That’s happened to me like, five times! Except for some reason for me it’s tteokbokki…I think it’s the starch. I think it’s trying to tell me something.”

“…we should try the starch,” said Brigitte, with a conspiratorial grin and a slight waggle of her eyebrows that managed to get a laugh out of him before he seemed to catch himself again.

“Uh… Dae-hyun Park,” he said, sticking a hand forward, “Meka Program.”

“Oh! You’re Hana’s friend! She said you’d be coming by! I’m Brigitte Lindholme,” she said, taking his hand and shaking it, “Ironclad Guild Initiate and Squire.”

“Squire?”

“Long story.”

A pause of only a few seconds passed between them, as he willed himself to slip his hand from her grip rather than nervously keep shaking it. Dae-hyun wasn’t sure if it was the overall warmth of the workshop, or the strange adrenaline-amped giddiness gained from finding a kindred spirit in a very strange place, but he felt as if he was dressed entirely too warmly to be here. He tried to focus, “I–uh–you said the self-diagnostic system wasn’t working as well–”

“You had that tablet—” Brigitte started.

“So we should–” they both turned to look back at Tokki, only to see D.Va leaning back against it, arms folded. A bubble gum bubble swelled from her puckered lips as she glanced shrewdly and a little too smugly at Dae-hyun.A brief, silent panic overtook Dae-hyun as he realized he had no idea when she had come in. She seemed to recognize this panic and snapped her gum smugly. 

“Am I interrupting?” D.Va asked, giving a glance to Dae-hyun.

“Uh…” Dae-hyun hesitated.

“Does she backseat drive you when you’re doing systems checks, too?” Brigitte glanced over at Dae-hyun with a smile.

“Oh she’s the worst,” said Dae-hyun.

D.Va pushed off the mech and playfully punched his arm. “I _have_ to be picky,” she said with a sharp grin, “I’m the one flying it.”

“It’s good to see you, Hana,” said Dae-hyun, smiling.

“See?” said D.Va, putting her hands on her hips, “We didn’t murder you.”

“Yet,” said Dae-hyun.

“Yet,” said D.Va, cocking her head.

They hugged.

—–

The three of them pored and bickered and poked about Tokki for several hours. D.Va seemed to enjoy steering the conversation towards embarrassing childhood stories about Dae-hyun and the Meka squad, and it was all Dae-hyun could do to try to get her back with some stories of his own. Brigitte tended to talk mostly about the watchpoint, but sometimes her stories trailed off into her old travels with Reinhardt. Brigitte shed the welding helmet and gloves to get more precision work in, revealing a head of thick chestnut hair in a thick ponytail, with two unusually long strands of hair allowed to hang at her temples.

“It’s nice to be working on something that’s a bit more complex than crusader armor,” she said, stooping over Dae-hyun’s shoulder as he at on the floor scrolled through digital systems scans on his tablet. One of the long chestnut strands at her temple tickled his ear, but he couldn’t bring himself to brush it away and he tried to focus on the screen.

“A _bit?_ Reinhardt’s literally medieval,” said D.Va, working on one of Tokki’s gun arms.

“He’s not _that_ bad, I mean he still loves your streams,” said Brigitte, “Just the other day he was saying—”

“Shoot–” D.Va was leaning her weight against Tokki’s side, “I’m having trouble with the joint here—can one of you hold it up while I tweak this?”

Dae-hyun noticed that the arm seemed to have trouble staying in its upright position, the joint in question angled so the gun was practically pointed at the ground and quickly got to his feet, “I’ll go grab a jack–”

“I got it,” said Brigitte, unzipping the front of her coveralls and shrugging their upper half off of her bare freckled shoulders, tying the coverall’s sleeves at her waist. She was wearing a black tank top underneath that had a kettlebell with a bite taken out of it and the words, ‘I like exercise because I love eating’ above and below it. And it certainly showed as she rolled her shoulders and walked over to Tokki. Dae-hyun’s eyes were wide as Brigitte hefted her arms up beneath the gun like she was doing a barbell curl and brought it up to the same position as the other gun. “How long do you need me to hold this?” she said, her voice slightly strained.

“Gimme a sec….” said D.Va.

Dae-hyun was trying not to stare but the sharp line of definition of her deltoid and the breathtaking curve of her bicep were both somehow further highlighted by the starry scattering of freckles on her shoulder and had him transfixed. The sheer combination of both tension and stability in her hold, the sound of her sucking a steady breath through her teeth with the effort, made him wish, more than anything in the world, to be Tokki’s gun arm in that moment.

Brigitte grunted a bit with the weight as D.Va fastened the errant bolt in place and said, “Okay, got it,” and Brigitte dropped her arms with a relieved huff to see Tokki once again holding both gun arms up in their rabbit-like position.

“I was getting a weird amount of resistance there, we may need to check the hydraulics,” said Brigitte.

“I can take it to the shooting range. See the reaction time,” said D.Va.

“Hm,” Brigitte interlaced her fingers and stretched her arms over her head, “That could work, or we could–”

“Ah! There you are!” A thickly German-accented voice boomed and all three of them glanced up to see an enormous, muscular old man in the doorway of the workshop.

Brigitte let out a sigh that seemed just as weary as it was affectionate as the man ducked through the doorway and walked briskly into the room.

“Brigitte! We had sparring training nearly an hour ago! It’s not _knightly_ to–Oh, hello, Ms. Song.”

“Hiya,” D.Va waved.

“And this must be the mechanic we brought in precisely so you _could_ train!” said Reinhardt pointing a figure at Dae-hyun.

“Uh… sorry?” said Dae-hyun.

“It is not your fault, dear boy, the issue here is of holding to one’s word!” 

“Sorry, Reinhardt,” said Brigitte, rubbing the back of her neck, “Got a little caught up in the work. Lost track of time.”

Reinhardt sighed. “I suppose it is no harm done,” he said, folding his burly arms, “The same thing happened with your father all the time. Still happens with your father! Why I remember back in the Crisis during a lull in the middle of the four-day-long battle of Eindhoven, and Torbjörn–”

“Uh, Reinhardt–The training?” said Brigitte, putting her hands on her hips.

Reinhardt caught himself. “Why–yes, of course, the training.” He cleared his throat, “It has been a pleasure meeting you Mr.–uh…”

“Park,” said Dae-hyun, “Dae-hyun Park.”

“Truly, Dae-hyun Park, your friendship with Miss Song is a powerful bond to have brought you such a long way. Such was the bonds of my fellow crusaders during our _glorious battles_ in–”

“Reinhardt,” Brigitte interrupted him with a good-natured smile.

“Right, the training,” said Reinhardt, “I hope to see you at mess, later on, Mr. Park!”

“Um… o-okay,” said Dae-hyun.

Brigitte glanced back at D.Va and Dae-hyun. “I’ll come check Tokki out later,” she said before circling her arm in its socket with a slight laugh, “Guess I’ll be getting another workout in!”

“Best of luck in your efforts!” said Reinhardt as both he and Brigitte walked out of the workshop.

A long pause passed between D.Va and Dae-hyun as Dae-hyun processed what had just happened.

“…is _everyone_ on this watchpoint ripped?” he said incredulously and D.Va burst out laughing.

“You love it,” she managed to say between snickers.

“Well yeah with Brigitte, but that other guy was—” Dae-hyun caught himself and saw that D.Va was giving him a squinting, shit-eating, cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.

“I knew it,” she said.

“Wh–You don’t know anything,” said Dae-hyun, glancing off.

“Mm-hmm,” D.Va agreed with sing-songy ‘I don’t believe you’ intonation.

“…wait a sec, was there even an issue with that arm, or did _you_ —?”

“Hey the wrong bolts get loosened all the time with maintenance,” said D.Va with a shrug.

“Hana!”

“I’ve missed you, Dae-hyun.”

“Missed driving me crazy,” muttered Dae-hyun.

“Oh definitely that,” said D.Va.


End file.
